Fatal Transaction: A DCI MacBain Scottish Crime Thriller

by Oliver Davies

  Dunnel whirled on me. “You’ve got his number, right? Call him. Now.”

  “I don’t think that will do any good, sir,” I said. “I doubt he’ll pick up.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  It wasn’t like I could disobey a direct order, so I pulled out my phone and dialled Alec’s number. The call rang and rang and rang, but of course, he didn’t pick up. I shrugged at Dunnel as I took the phone away from my ear.

  “No answer.”

  Dunnel’s jaw jumped, but he took a deep breath, and he slowly nodded. “Fine. But we’ll be looking for him, understand? And as soon as we find him, we arrest him.”

  “Understood, sir,” I said. I’d need to warn Alec so he could get out of town. I owed him that much. Though unfortunately, Dunnel’s pledge would put a real spanner in Alec’s attempts to rejoin Ainslee’s life.

  “I should check in with Rayla,” I continued.

  “And me with Denise,” Fletcher added, gesturing toward her date, who was currently standing in line at the bar.

  “Fine,” Dunnel agreed. “I’ll see you both at the station in the morning. Make sure you figure out where that money is when you interrogate those robbers.”

  I nodded in agreement and stifled a yawn behind my hand. Dunnel motioned to Elker, and the two of them started toward the door, moving swiftly through the small crowd. I started to turn toward Rayla, but something caught my eye on the table before I’d taken a step, and I moved closer to scoop it up. It was Alec’s wire, discarded behind his cider glass. I tucked it into my pocket and walked away.

  I flopped down into the chair beside Rayla’s with a sigh and tipped my head back to rest on the plush cushion, closing my eyes for a second as my leg muscles trembled.

  “Did you get them?” Rayla asked me.

  “All three of them,” I replied, opening my eyes and tilting my neck to look at her.

  “And you’re alright?”

  “Just tired,” I said. “There was a lot of running involved.”

  Rayla laughed softly and threaded her fingers through mine. “Good.”

  “Thanks again for helping me out tonight,” I said. “Sorry for ditching you like that.”

  “I mean, you kind of had to.” Rayla elbowed me in the side and grinned, and I bobbed my head in agreement.

  “I’ll take you home now if you want, but I was hoping to stay until the end of the concert,” I said, looking up at the empty stage and the bodhran drum standing beside one of the chairs.

  “You want to try to speak with Lena,” Rayla surmised.

  “Is that weird? For you, I mean?” I asked, guilt curling my insides that Rayla was sitting right beside me, and I was still caught on an old flame who’d left me behind without a word.

  Rayla took her time thinking about it, her brow furrowing. “No, it’s not,” she said, and she sounded like she meant it. “From what you’ve told me, you deserve closure. You should try to get some.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured and gave her hand a squeeze.

  Closure. That was the right word for it. I wasn’t necessarily trying to get back with Lena, we’d only been on one date, after all, but my mind was stuck on her because of the uncertainty of her departure and the fact that she’d left me in the dark. If I could just talk to her about it, maybe I could move on. I’d like to move on, I decided.

  Fletcher and her date, Denise, swung by our seats and claimed two of the empty ones beside me, drinks in hand. Fletcher introduced us all quickly, and I shook Denise’s hand, leaning over Fletcher to do so.

  “Are you guys sticking around?” Fletcher asked me.

  I nodded. “Yeah. We were going to stay until the end.”

  “Because you want to talk to Lena,” Fletcher guessed, just like Rayla had, and I wondered when I’d become so transparent. “I was going to ask you about that, but obviously, there hasn’t been time. Are you alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” I asked with a shrug.

  Fletcher scoffed at me. “Because the woman you had a major thing for a year ago just showed up again out of the blue after bailing on you. I’d be shaken if I were you.” She peered around me to grimace at Rayla. “Sorry.”

  Rayla waved her concern away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard the full story. I get it. What she did was pretty messed up.”

  “Yeah, I was rattled when I saw her,” I admitted. “But I just want closure. That’s all.”

  “Are you sure she’s going to give it to you?” Fletcher asked. “She’s already proved herself to be pretty flighty.”

  I shook my head and shrugged. I didn’t know. She had to have seen me while Rayla and I were dancing. Would she bail as soon as the concert was over to avoid me? Or would she at least do me the courtesy of sticking around to say hello?

  The lights flashed, telling us that intermission was almost over, and the rest of the concert-goers flooded back to their seats, the chatter dying down as the band came back out on stage. I stared at Lena, trying to read her intentions through her eyes. She scanned the crowd, and I sat forward as her gaze landed on me, smiling at her and hoping she would smile back.

  She didn’t. She barely acknowledged me, though something uneasy flickered across her face.

  I slumped back in my seat, and Rayla took my hand in hers, leaning her head gently on my shoulder. The band struck up a ballad, and if there were any thoughts of me in Lena’s head, they swiftly fled as she poured herself into the music, her drum alive beneath her fingers.

  I watched her for the entire concert. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was why I’d liked her so much, this passion that overflowed within her whenever she touched her instrument, this quiet serenity that descended over her, which seemed to float throughout the entire room, touching every soul in its way. I wasn’t passionate like she was. I was merely intense, and I envied her that joy, that purpose. I supposed I’d thought that if I got close to her, I might find some of my own.

  Fletcher and Denise stayed as well, still seated beside us, and I wondered if Fletcher was mostly sticking around to provide moral support. I wouldn’t mind if she was. I could probably use some at the end of the night. The two of them got up at one point and went back to the bar, coming back with drinks for all four of us, and I accepted mine gladly, hoping to loosen some of the tension that was riding along my spine.

  The concert wrapped up just after ten, and I leapt to my feet the moment the band walked off the stage. I had to find the best way to reach them. Usually, the band would come out into the foyer to sell and sign CDs, but would Lena accompany them? Or would she bail out the back? Damn it. I should have asked Homes to stay out there to keep watch.

  “Fletcher, can you go out to the lobby?” I asked as the crowd stretched and began to move toward the exit. “I’m going to see if I can get backstage.”

  “On it,” Fletcher said and threaded her fingers through Denise’s as they joined the flood of people.

  Rayla took hold of my hand, and we pushed through the crowd toward the stage, our steps fast as we wove around all the people. A couple of concert workers had come out to break down the equipment, but the actual band members were gone, taking their instruments with them. Maybe I could catch Lena while she was putting her drum away.

  The theatre employees gave me strange looks as I climbed up onto the stage, completely forgoing the stairs off to the side, but I moved with such confidence that they didn’t think to try to stop me, and I was able to slip past the curtains to the backstage area. There was a lot of hustle and bustle going on behind the scenes as people got to work breaking the concert down, but I pushed past them after each cursory glance to make sure that none of them was Lena. Rayla followed close behind me, still holding onto my hand so we wouldn’t get separated in the press of people.

  We passed the dressing rooms and reached the little waiting room that the band had clearly used for prep and to rest during the intermission if all the water bottles and bags strewn across the place were anything to go by. I
recognised a couple of the band members packing up their instruments, but none of them was Lena, and I didn’t see any sort of bodhran case lying around.

  I stepped up to the guitar player and gave him a short wave to catch his attention. He finished wrapping Velcro around his instrument’s neck, then straightened and turned to me, sticking his hands in his pockets as he gave me a once over, no doubt trying to figure out if he was supposed to know me.

  “Hey, mate,” he said. “Usually, the band goes out to the audience, not the other way around.” He cracked a smile, though he clearly seemed a little uncomfortable, but I shook my head.

  “I’m a friend of Lena’s,” I explained. “Can you point me in her direction?”

  “She left already, sorry,” the guitar player said with an apologetic shrug.

  “Yeah, she bailed out pretty quick,” the fiddler added from the corner. “She asked us to cover for her with the guests, grabbed her stuff, and practically ran out the door.”

  I kept my expression neutral even as my heart sank toward my shoes. She’d seen me, and she’d decided that speaking to me was the last thing she wanted to do.

  It took me a couple of tries to get my mouth open and convince words to come out, but Rayla gave my hand a squeeze, and that helped me lurch forward and force everything out.

  “Do you have any idea where she went? Or where she’s staying?” I asked, starting to feel just a little desperate.

  The guitar and fiddler players glanced at each other, and the guitarist licked his lips as he thought about his answer. He seemed to think that I was some kind of creepy stalker or ex-boyfriend who’d come to harass Lena. I didn’t know what I could say to dissuade him of that notion since the truth would only pound the idea home for him. So I did my best to convey that I just wanted to have an innocent talk with her through my face and eyes, meeting the guitarist’s gaze head-on as if I could communicate with him telepathically that way.

  “She’s getting on a train the day after tomorrow,” the guitarist said while the fiddler made a face in the background. “The eight p.m. train to Glasgow, I think. Maybe you can find her there.”

  “Thanks,” I told him with a grateful nod. I knew that anything could happen between now and eight tomorrow evening, like Lena getting on an earlier train to make sure she avoided me, but I felt a little better knowing I might still have some way to reach her.

  I turned to go without another word, letting the guitarist get back to his instrument. Rayla met my eyes, her own wide and worried about how I was feeling, but I shook my head slightly. This wasn’t the place to talk about it. We made our way back to the stage, pushing past the curtain and crossing the heavy wooden boards to drop back down to the theatre floor. Most of the concert-goers had made their way out through the main exit, though there were still a few people clustered around the bar, having one last drink as they chatted with their friends. I could have really used a drink or five, but I had to drive Rayla home, so we headed for the doors instead.

  Fletcher and Denise were in the lobby, perusing some of the art while they waited for us, and I called Fletcher’s name to get her attention as Rayla and I walked over. The two of them turned around immediately, Fletcher sizing up the entire situation with one glance at my face.

  “No luck?” she asked, and I shook my head.

  She clapped me on the shoulder then pulled me in for a quick hug. I squeezed her back and closed my eyes for a second, letting a wave of disappointment roll over me before I pushed it away again.

  “Her bandmate told me what train she’d planned to be on,” I said as Fletcher let me go. “I’ll try to catch her at the station tomorrow evening. Until then, I need some sleep, and then we’ve got some robbers to interrogate.”

  “Right,” Fletcher agreed. She gave me a nod that told me she’d heard in my tone that I simply wanted to talk about business for the time being.

  We walked out of the front doors and back into the cool night, which had a much calmer air to it now that we were no longer chasing criminals through its dim shadows. We turned to the right to head into the car park, meandering slowly across the pavement at the back of the last of the stragglers leaving the concert.

  “Dunnel texted me,” Fletcher continued. “They got our guys back to the station safe and sound, and the three of them will be stewing in the holding cells until we get to them in the morning.”

  “Perfect. Let them agonise for a while,” I said with a sharp grin. “I’ll see you then?”

  Fletcher flashed me a thumb’s up. “See you then.”

  The four of us parted ways to get into our two separate cars, and I could feel Rayla staring at me as I put the car in reverse and backed swiftly out of our spot. She was clearly waiting for me to break the silence, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to, didn’t know what might come out of my mouth if we talked about what had just happened. So we drove in silence, and Rayla subsided down into her seat, fiddling with her fingers as they lay in her lap.

  I parked outside her flat ten minutes later. She’d asked me to drop her there after the concert rather than at Alana’s, having made good time as the late-night traffic had been light. Rayla reached over and took my hand, threading her fingers through mine so she could give them a proper squeeze.

  “Do you want to stay over tonight?” she suggested, her voice soft. “We could talk about it if you wanted.”

  I turned and gave her a tired smile, rubbing the back of my hand across my eyes. “I have to be up early tomorrow. It’s probably best if I head home so I can shower and change. Thank you for everything you did tonight. It all means a lot to me.”

  I leaned in and kissed her, cupping one hand around her cheek before I pulled back. Rayla nodded. She chewed on her lower lip like she was worried about something, but she didn’t say anything other than a quiet goodbye as she climbed from the car. I waited at the kerb to make sure she got through the door okay, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion and no small amount of disappointment the moment the door latched shut behind her.

  Twenty-One

  When I arrived at the police station, the whole place was alive with energy. It seemed everyone had heard the story of our daring chase and capture last night and was telling it to everyone else. But, with each new rendition, the facts warped and stretched with added drama and danger. Now, Fletcher and I had somehow fought off twelve guys, and one of them had a sword or something. Oh, and I’d actually gotten thrown into the River Ness, but I’d dragged him down with me and held him under until he fell unconscious, then dragged both of us to shore.

  No one seemed interested in the actual events when I tried to explain that it was far less dramatic than all that, preferring their expanded versions of the story, and Fletcher had an absolute ball adding to the rumours, claiming that at one point, she’d done a backflip and kicked a man in the face in mid-air. I just shook my head and let a small smile slip across my lips, finding comfort in her antics.

  Dunnel spotted us as soon as we reached our desks and waved us toward his office. Fletcher and I shed our coats first, then hurried over, choosing to remain standing as we figured this would be a quick meeting. Dunnel stood behind his desk as well, hands clasped behind his back and a serious expression on his face. He was back in his uniform, which was something of a relief since I’d only seen him out of uniform once or twice, and it weirded me out each time.

  “Any news on MacGowan?” he asked without even saying good morning.

  “Not yet,” I answered honestly. I’d been checking my phone all last night and this morning for any word from Alec, just to make sure he’d gotten out okay, but it’d been radio silence so far.

  Dunnel hummed darkly, clearly unhappy, but after a beat, he moved past the issue. “Your robbers are still in their holding cells. Carmichael has called in a lawyer. He arrived just before you did, though he doesn’t seem entirely competent. He’s chatting with them now. Hopefully, he’ll tell them to fork over the money and save themselves some trouble.”

  I
nodded slowly as I digested the information. Lawyers always made things slightly more complicated, but I supposed I couldn’t begrudge Carmichael the help, though I’d thought he’d be the sort who thought he could do it all himself.

  “Getting the money back is the most important thing,” Dunnel continued. “Second even to figuring out which one of the three killed Mr Crane. It will reflect very badly on the department if we don’t recover the stolen cash, do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied promptly as Fletcher nodded beside me. “We’ll make sure we find it.”

  “Good,” Dunnel said. “Ask Owens to move the three of them to separate interrogation rooms. You can question them at your leisure.”

  “Got it,” I said, and then Fletcher and I saw ourselves out of his office. As soon as we were out on the main floor, I glanced around until I spotted Owens, bent over a cup of tea as he very, very carefully poured his milk and sugar into it in just the right quantities. I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention, and he looked back at us with his spoon in his mouth.

  “Hey, we need you to go get the three robbers out of the holding cells,” I said as he bobbed his head in eager agreement. “Put them in separate interview rooms.”

  “Will do,” Owens said, plunking his spoon back in his mug before he picked it up, blowing gently on the steaming liquid as he walked away.

  I turned to fix myself my own cup of tea while Fletcher went to root around in the fridge for someone else’s food that she could steal. She came away with an apple and half a chocolate bar, sticking the sweet into her back pocket for later as she crunched into the apple. Sufficiently prepared, we ambled back toward the interrogation rooms, taking our time so Owens could get the prisoners in place before we arrived.

  “Any particular way you want to do this?” Fletcher asked me as we walked.

  I sipped my tea and immediately burnt my tongue, flinching as I pulled my mouth away from the rim. “We’ll leave Carmichael for last. The other two will be far more likely to break first, especially if we go at them hard.”